Work Text:
Seongwoo sniffles as he exits the train station. His breath makes smoke as he emerges from the warm cocoon of the underground into the bustling city above. He never used to be much of a city boy, but graduating from university changed that. Now, he’s acclimating to the lifestyle. Sometimes, he misses the privacy and the quiet, the little mom and pop places he’d been going to since childhood and meeting his mom for breakfast. Alas, the life of an actor isn’t an easy one. Unfortunately, opportunity isn’t exactly overflowing in the burbs. So, to the big city he went.
After lots and lots and lots of closed doors, he came upon a Christmas miracle just as the season started (that is to say: the first day of November). Through some connections he’d made with his schoolmate Jaehwan, Ong learned that an actor fell through in a production another one of his friends is in. Apparently, one of the city theaters is doing a musical version of Twelfth Night just for the Christmas season - an ode to the theater days of yore. Ong recognized the production company to a prestigious one, and he was certain he could recite Shakespeare in his sleep, and by some stroke of luck and friendly intervention, he’d gotten an audition. Zero luck and all hard work got him the suddenly vacated part: the role of Sebastian - the main character’s older brother and doppelganger. Apparently, he looked enough like the lead actress and hammed up the part well enough.
And so Ong finds himself rushing to the big city for his first group reading. Jaehwan’s friend - Yoon Jisung - is pretty cool and had even met with Ong prior. He keeps teasing Seongwoo about there being some “hot mystery idol actor” which, at the time Seongwoo had thought nothing of. Idols did theater all the time, especially during off seasons when the extent of their promotions was filling a seat at an awards show. Seongwoo even remembered joking about it with Jisung. He’d made comments over coffee like: “Who is it? Kang Daniel, the prince of Korea?”
“Cold, cold, cold…” Seongwoo mutters to himself. He can feel his nostrils freeze every time he breathes in and cowers more and more beneath the high collar of his puffy coat because of it. It’s late November now, which means they’ve got a very, very short time to actually prepare. Since Shakespeare is classic, and companies are cheap, Ong figures that they’d purposely waited until the last second to bring everyone together. Figures.
At least it’s Shakespeare , he thinks. He couldn’t have asked for a much easier play to learn in two weeks. While he felt confident in his own skills and had come to know Jisung to be responsible, one little lump of coal dirtied his proverbial gift hoard: the idol.
Seongwoo could never figure out why an idol felt the need to act on stage. Were dramas not enough? Or on screen promotions and endorsements? He tried to be respectful and nice, but something about seeing an idol on stage (instead of a person who’d dedicated their life to acting) rubs him in a weird way. Sure, some train for acting. Some don’t and land roles anyway. It wreaks of boredom on their part - like being a poster child isn’t fulfilling enough work so they have to invade the actors’ space. Of course, that could just be bitterness talking, too.
Ong prays that whoever he sits across from that room (the person is apparently playing the Duke - the main love interest, of course) is at least competent. Competent he can deal with. It’s not like he has a wealth of lines or anything, so watching someone have a lot and completely suck will be painful. Excrutiatingly so.
“Okay, um…” Seongwoo fishes out his phone. He taps for his dear life, opening the map app quickly so he can stuff his hands back into the safety of his down coat. “Five-thirty-five… Suite… Three-thousand… Okay.” He memorizes the address before shoving his phone and frozen hand back into his pocket, plodding down the sidewalk with a quick, determined pace.
He finally lands in front of the high-rise building a few minutes later. Even though it’s freezing, he feels sweat on the back of his neck from how fast he’d been rushing. I’ll make sure to doll myself up, he thinks idly, ascending the massive, wide steps toward the entrance of the building.
“Oh, so much better,” Seongwoo mutters to himself as he steps through the threshold. His shoulders sag with relief as warmth starts trickling back into his system. The lobby of the place baffles him just a bit. There’s escalators to one level and tons of people walking around, crossing from corridor to corridor, climbing into elevators that are on the first level. Seongwoo had arrived early - after all, he’s a hard worker and making a good impression is key - but he decided not to do too much exploration himself. Instead, he throws out his manly pride and asked one of the people at the info desk how to get where he needs to go.
The service person directs him to a particular set of elevators (apparently, different sets of elevators only access certain floors - who knew?). Taking a deep breath, Seongwoo enters the one he needs and presses his floor. The doors close, and soft Christmas music playe over the speakers. He takes a few minutes to collect himself.
“This is the air…” Seongwoo mutters. In place of a lame pep talk, he mentally goes over his lines. “The pearl she gave me… I do feel’t and see’t…” Excitement and nervousness brews inside of his chest, bubbling like a glass of champagne.
“Ding!” The elevator rings out when he’s finally reached his floor. Nerves jumble and tangle and trip over each other in Ong’s chest, but he reigns them back. It’s time to be a professional now. He’d looked over his lines hundreds of times in the past few weeks. He’d recited them in the shower, on the way to auditions, while making ramyun and even in bed. He knows better than anyone just how expressive he can be, from grand gestures to the most subtle, minute of expressions. He’s ready. He. Is. Ready. He’d already landed the part - that’s the difficult bit - now it’s just meshing well with the other actors. Well, actor and idol . Ong rolls his eyes.
After a brief stop into the restroom to assure he’s looking his best, Seongwoo enters the suite specified on the address.
“Good morning,” He greets politely, bowing to the seniors present. Jisung waves from across the room, seated next to a girl Seongwoo can only assume is the lead and an empty seat.
“Morning!” Jisung says when Seongwoo takes a seat next to him. “This is Kim Yewon - our Violet.”
“Nice to meet you,” Seongwoo says.
“Nice to meet you as well,” She greets back politely. Her face is a bit more round than Ong’s, but he has to concede they have similar eyes. With makeup, the audience will probably be totally convinced. When greetings are finished, Ong takes his seat.
Jisung leans over, whispering, “You get here okay? Didn’t freeze off your nutcrackers?”
“I’m- I’m fine,” Ong replies, chuckling at the lame joke. “Do I look okay?”
“You look like a plate of ginger snaps to Santa.”
“Okay, the first one was okay but that’s just too lame. Like. Not even remotely witty.”
Jisung snorts at the remark, “I try,” He shrugs animatedly, doing a hair flip for long hair he doesn’t have. He’s perfect for the role of Aguecheek - the fool.
Seongwoo scans the room. He recognizes the producers and directors, and he tries to guess who the other actors are playing. It’s not like it’s a big cast, and there seems to be one chair conspicuously empty.
“Where’s the idol?” Seongwoo asks. Judging by the relatively plain, professional looking people present, the idol has yet to make their appearance. Ong can’t pretend he’d recognize him if he was in the room - he only knows like one idol. Maybe three - and two of them are Kang Daniel with a different hair color. That’s beside the point, though. Ong imagines the idol would look… Well, like an idol. Probably dressed to the nines in stylish clothes with a manager in tow and a face full of makeup.
“Not here, I guess,” Jisung shrugs. Sensing the slight implication of judgment in Ong’s tone, he elbows the other lightly, “Hey, he’s not late yet.”
“Mhm, okay. Should we start a pool?”
“Ong.”
“What? I’m just saying…” He purses his lips slightly, “I hope he’s nice is all. Not some brat who’s doing this because he’s bored or wants to seem fake intellectual, you know?”
“What is with this bitterness? Where is this coming from?” Jisung chuckles.
“I’m not bitter, I’m just realistic. Idols are… Different.” Most of them are, anyways. “They’re not like normal people.” Except one. “It’s not, like, their fault. They just have a different lifestyle, and, like I dunno…”
“Would you like a coffee?” An assistant of sorts interrupts their little conversation bearing a tray of hot coffees. The actors each take a cup graciously, relishing in the warmth. It beats running lines in a drafty theater, that’s for sure. Just the smell of it is enough to take the edge off of Seongwoo’s bitter mood.
“Feeling better, Mr. Grinch?” Jisung asks after their spell of silence.
Ong sighs as he empties half a dozen sugar packets into his steaming cup, “Yeah, yeah… I just hope he takes this seriously, you know? Whoever he is.”
“Just stop thinking about the idol and focus on yourself,” Jisung replies, “This’ll open doors - but only if you play nice with your fellow thespians. And Mr. Idol- whoever he is.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I guess I’m just-”
“Bitter?”
“I just-” Ong sighs, “We work so damn hard and these people just- just walk onto stages because they’re famous.”
“It’s not like they don’t work hard, too,” Jisung returns.
Seongwoo stutters sheepishly, “I- I know- I- I didn’t mean-”
“Hey, you’re not offending me. I get it. Just have a little Christmas spirit. This guy could be serious. You never know, you might actually like him. Think he’s cool.”
“Yeah, we’ll bake gingerbread cookies together, too,” Ong jokes. “And be bestest friends.”
“Okay, really? Do you have a chip on your shoulder or something? Did an idol kill your family?” Jisung arches an eyebrow, “Break your heart?”
“Shut up! They’re just so inaccessible, I dunno… It’s like they’re on a different level from real people.”
“You seem a bit fixated on this. Why are you so fixated on this?”
“I’m not.”
“You are. What is this? This feels personal. Is this personal?”
“It is not personal. I have nothing against- against idols. I don’t even care about idols. I don’t follow them, I-”
“Come on, you’re seriously sus.”
“I am not. I have never in my life even cared about idols. Not one time have I sat down and thought, ‘oh, what are the idols up to’.”
“You’re incriminating yourself more, you know.”
“I am not. I don’t care about idols. Not even a little. I could not care less about any idol on this earth. Any idol. Ever!” Ong punctuates his thought with a long gulp of coffee. He’s done talking about idols. Coffee is his best friend now.
“Screeeeech.”
Suddenly, the door opens, and all eyes dart to the person entering.
Seongwoo chokes on his coffee. As he hacks and coughs, hot liquid running down his chin, Ong looks on in shock with wide eyes. They didn’t just get an idol. They got the idol. His hair color is different now, it’s a natural color, but he’s still unmistakeable. Tall with broad shoulders and a puppydog face. He looks winded, and Seongwoo can’t help noticing the many, many green pinpricks sticking out of his puffy, long jacket. Is that a fashion statement?
“S-sorry for being late,” Daniel bows. He sounds out of breath and looks apologetic. In reality, he’s less than two minutes late - everyone else just happened to be early. A small eruption of whispers sounds out among the cast.
It’s one of the directors who answers, “No problem at all. Please, take a seat and have a coffee.” The director gestures, and Ong follows the man’s hand. He realizes: the only empty seat is next to him. His eyes blow even more widely open.
Daniel nods graciously, shedding his strangely adorned coat and shuffling over to the empty seat. Seongwoo freezes. His eyes plaster themselves onto the cup before him. The nervous sensation is agonizing. Will he recognize me? Of course not. He’s probably met tons of fans.
But… How many has he kissed?!
God I hope he doesn’t recognize me.
“Sorry for disturbing everyone,” Daniel apologizes softly. Right. Next. To. Ong. He reeks of pine needles. Why does he reek of pine needles?!
Okay, be cool. Be cool. Be cool. Be cool. Be cool. He tells himself a million times. Luckily, Jisung responds quickly, letting Ong wallow in anxiety for a little longer.
“You weren’t disturbing anyone. I’m Yoon Jisung, by the way. It’s an honor to meet you!” Jisung extends his hand toward Daniel - right in front of Seongwoo. Daniel takes it, greeting the other politely. “Forgive my frankness, but… Did something happen on your way here? You didn’t need to rush.”
“Oh,” Daniel chuckles sheepishly, “I, um… Well… So, those giant trees in the lobby down there? Have you seen those?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Yeah, well those are real.”
“Ah, that explains the pine smell.”
“Ha- Yup! And, uh, well I might have… Tripped and fell into one.”
That sounds like something I would do, Seongwoo can’t help thinking. It strikes him that it’s probably really weird that he hasn’t introduced himself yet. He should probably do that. Mustering his courage, Ong sits up a bit straighter, unlatching his eyesight from his coffee.
“Ouch!” Jisung comments with a chuckle. “Are- are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It was, um, very pokey. And the lobby staff didn’t seem to appreicate it…”
Any second now. Ong is gonna introduce himself.
“How’d you fall into one?”
“W-well, I saw some, um…” He sounds even more sheepish than before, “Some people were taking my pictures through the lobby windows, and it made me nervous.”
Seriously? Have you not gotten used to this now!?
“This is supposed to be a secret - like a surprise. Me being in this musical, that is. So, I didn’t want to be seen.”
“Kinda hard for you of all people to be covert, though, isn’t it?” Jisung quips.
Seongwoo promises he’s going to introduce himself when it’s not a weird time to do so. He swears.
“I guess it was optimistic of me, but I can dream, right?” Daniel laughs.
“Oh- Ong!” Jisung says. Seongwoo swears he hears a note of mockery in his tone. The tricky bastard. “What do you think of our Duke?”
“Hm?” Seongwoo looks up from his fingernails which had been so, so interesting just moments before. He pretends he just noticed the super famous idol sitting next to him. Swallowing down his nerves, he finally faces the man next to him, flashing a grin. “Sorry, I zoned out. I- I never introduced myself.” He extends a hand, “Ong Seongwoo.” He watches Daniel carefully to gauge his reaction.
There’s nothing.
Well, okay, there is the courteous smile and return of the handshake, but that’s about it. No glint of recognition, no widening of the eyes or inquisitive raising of a brow. All business. Ong tries to convince himself the dipping feeling in his heart isn’t disappointment. What did he expect?
“Kang Daniel. I look forward to working with you. Obviously, I am less experienced in acting, so please take care of me,” Daniel says. “I hope I’m not too much of a burden. Sorry for my, um, incident and lateness again.”
“Well, to my knowledge there’s no Christmas trees on set so, I think we should all be fine moving forward,” Ong quips back.
Daniel chuckles and it’s like the coulds have parted to make way for the sun. He looks so different with his natural hair color. Somehow younger. He’s wearing almost no makeup unlike the last time Ong had seen him up close, and it’s like the idol’s turned the clock back a few years. He’s cute. So, so cute, and Seongwoo hopes that he doesn’t have to deal with the butterflies in his stomach for the entire production run. They’ll calm down eventually, right? Once the initial infatuation finishes and he departs from delusional land. It’ll be fine. It’ll be totally fine.
“Alright!” The director calls everyone’s attention, “Now that we’re all here and settled in, let’s get started, shall we…?”
“He watches you,” Jisung leans in to whisper to Ong backstage. Things had gone surprisingly smoothly with the idol actor. He’s not amazing, but not terrible. There’s definitely room for growth. Thankfully, he’s willing - not some brat or arrogant jerk.
“What are you talking about?” Ong whispers back, arms crossed defiantly. Daniel’s on stage rehearsing some scene from the second act with Yewon.
“Him,” Jisung emphatically nods toward Daniel, “He totally watches you.”
“Watches me… What, exactly? Act on stage? Like he should be? Like we should be doing?”
“Oh please, both of us know we can recite our lines in a coma at this point. You know exactly what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, because you watch him, too.”
“You just said we should be-”
Jisung sighs, “You know you’re only this difficult when he’s involved. You’re normal and easy with everything else. But if I bring him up it’s like: deflect, deflect, deflect. Deny and deflect.”
“Because you allege that we’re having some torrid love affair.”
“I do not. I just… Am observant.”
“Uh-huh,” Ong replies sarcastically.
“And I notice things.”
“Mhm.”
“Like how you watch each other. Like how even across the stage he watches you. His body’s always turned toward you. Also, have you ever noticed-“
“No,” Seungwoo cuts the other off. The last thing he needs is to start getting delusions of grandeur. It’s bad enough that he has to see the guy every day. Just being in Kang Daniel’s presence is daunting. It’s not that Daniel acts like some big shot. He just exerts an untouchable aura. It has nothing to do with Seongwoo’s crush on him. Nothing.
“I’m just saying-“
“No-“
“But-“
“No, no, no,” Ong cuts him off with finality. “Stop it.”
“Okay. Fine, fine. Have it your way. I’m just saying,” Jisung smirks, “I bet he wouldn’t mind being caught under the mistletoe with you- Ow.”
“Shut up!” Seungwoo says after smacking Jisung. His cheeks and ears sting from the heat flushing them. He wonders if a mistletoe would jog Daniel’s memory. Not that he wants it to be jogged or anything. He wonders - would Daniel be embarrassed if he heard about it? Did he even remember it at all? That one time he’d decided to kiss a fan just- just because what, exactly? Because he felt like it? Because he was bored and couldn’t fit getting action into his schedule?
“Your staring at him is really not helping your case,” Jisung murmurs.
“Jisung, shut up, I-“
“Stop!” The director's booming voice interrupts their hushed conversation. “That’s it for tonight. Everyone have a good night!”
“Oh, here he comes,” Jisung says to torment Ong even more. Just as he’d said, Daniel heads in their direction.
Seongwoo describes their relationship as acquaintanceship. Daniel is super courteous and polite. He cracks jokes occasionally and plays nice with everyone. That’s about it. Jisung seems to have warmed up to him a lot which is cool. There’s no crazy fireworks or dramatic confessions. Just professional camaraderie.
That’s it and that’s all it’ll ever be.
“Clink!”
“Ayy-!” “A toast!” “We did it!” “Drink up! Drink up!”
Seongwoo tips the almost overflowing glass of soju to his lips. It stings as it goes down his throat, and he relishes in it, throat be damned. They just finished the closing night of the musical and it was a triumph. The producers had rented a private room at a restaurant to celebrate after. No doubt there’d be an after party of sorts. Then an after-after party.
With Daniel in the cast, the production had sold out within minutes of tickets going on sale. Luckily, with some polishing up, he’d shaped up to be a pretty good stage actor. Maybe he’s not winning any awards based on merit alone, but he fit the role of the Duke well enough.
Christmas music plays on the restaurant speakers and loud chatter echoes across the room the cast had rented. Seongwoo sits sandwiched between Jisung and Daniel. While Jisung’s near presence is pretty normal to him, Daniel feels like a radiating sun next to Ong. He’s all too aware of the other, and the buzz settling into his bloodstream makes it all the much more difficult to ignore him.
Sides are passed around and more drinks are had. The producers call a toast, then the directors, Jisung - along with a couple of the more senior actors even call one.
About an hour later Seongwoo’s flush is more alcohol than anything else, and he actually feels feverish from it. The entire room is wrapped in a blanket of warmth from alcohol, food, and laughter. As pleasant as it is, he needs to cool down a bit; so, he excuses himself.
Even just outside the room, it feels ten degrees cooler. He heaves a sigh, taking a wobbly walk near in no direction in particular. Just down the hall leading to their private room stands a Christmas tree. Seongwoo tilts his head, finding himself drawn to the thing. It’s pretty, immaculately decorated with twinkling globe ornaments, tinsel and garland. Bracing himself against the wall, he stumbles toward it to get a better look.
It looks so pretty. Seeing his reflection warped in one of the red globes makes him laugh a little. The rush of exhilaration is nice, accentuated by the alcohol in his veins. Everything is more funny and more joyful to him. Suddenly, another blobby reflection appears behind him in the little orb of glass.
Ong stands up straight,glancing over his shoulder.
“Gorgeous,” Daniel remarks, a lopsided grin on his face. He leans against the wall heavily, a flush across his cheeks and his hands stuffed into his pockets. Even like that, casually standing there, he’s irresistible. Ong practically feels the magnetism drawing him in.
“Hm?” Seongwoo replies dumbly. His cheeks flush even more - if that’s possible. He blinks a few times, flustered, before realizing that there’s a very prettily decorated tree in front of him. “O-oh, the tree,” He laughs sheepishly. Trying to recover his dignity a bit, he makes a jab at the other, “I forgot you have an affinity for them.” He says, turning around to face the other.
Daniel giggles, “Yeah, totally.”
“Try not to fall into this one, okay?”
“Ong-hyung?” Daniel asks out of nowhere.
Seongwoo’s taken a bit aback, “U-uh… Yes? Daniel?” He quirks an eyebrow curiously.
“You’re a really good actor, you know that?”
“O-oh, um. Thank you. You’re, um, you’re actually not too bad yourself. I’m not gonna lie, I had my doubts.”
“Really?” Daniel sounds more interested than offended, thankfully. Stupid alcohol loosening my lips, Ong thinks.
“As far as I know you had no previous experience, right?”
“Okay, you got me there. I think I did pretty good, though. Maybe I need a bit more training to be as good on the stage as you.”
“Bold of you to think that there you’ll ever be as good on stage as me,” Ong ventures in with banter.
Daniel just laughs and, God, if it’s dizzying when Ong is sober, it’s especially so when he’s not. It takes the actor on a whirlwind of emotion, blowing over him with alcohol addled ecstasy and excitement.
“Maybe I’m not talking about on stage,” Daniel ventures. Ong’s face scrunches with confusion, and he tilts his head with a chuckle.
“What?” He asks.
The idol grins widely, simply stepping forward to stand next to Seongwoo. Daniel takes hold of an ornament, turning it in his hand idly. He doesn’t bother looking at Seongwoo as he speaks.
“Funny how this kinda stuff happens,” Daniel mutters, eyes fixed on the ornament.
“What stuff?” Ong wonders. He watches the idol lazily run his fingers along the decorated tree. It is sort of mesmerizing, the way light bounces off of every little luminous bit and bob dangling off of the branches.
“Do you believe in fate?” Daniel asks all of a sudden. How drunk is he? Ong asks himself. Has he already gotten to deep, philosophical conversation drunk? Or is he just more cerebral than one would think?
“I think we make our own fate,” Ong answers frankly. It’s true in his eyes. Maybe there’s some degree of divine intervention, but the vehicle of life isn’t self driving in his opinion.
“I don’t think that’s wrong, but this… This is pretty uncanny,” Daniel chuckles.
“What’s uncanny?”
Daniel nods up, toward the ceiling. Seongwoo’s eyes follow Daniel’s, and for a second he’s pretty sure he’s dreaming. What he sees can’t be real. There’s no way that there is actually mistletoe hanging up there. No way.
“You remember?” Ong blurts out. He snaps his lips shut, embarrassed. All the while myriad feelings swell in his chest. Nervousness, anxiousness, optimism, hope…
“A face like yours is unforgettable.”
“But- but you never said anything…”
Daniel scratches the back of his head, sheepish, “Well, admittedly, I, uh… I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure you’d remember it either. I thought it’d be best to keep it professional. I have a lot I could learn from you. You really are good.”
“Right, yeah, of course. It’d- it’d be weirder, probably. Right? I mean, it’s not like it- itwasn’t even, like, a, um, a thing- anyways- wow. You really remembered.”
“Had you going, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. Yeah you did.”
The conversation between them fades leaving only the low hum of distant conversation between them. It’s weirdly comfortable, though. Maybe it’s the booze or the familiarity. Ong isn’t sure.
“Well,” Daniel breaks the silence, “I dunno about you, but things have gone well for me since our last encounter. Or, well, our first one. Seems like they’ve gone well for you, too.”
“I can’t complain,” Ong says, a little grin forming on his lips.
“Seems to me that our last mistletoe was good luck. I dunno about you, but,” Daniel looks up again, “I wouldn’t want to cast some weird Christmas curse or jinx myself. Would you?”
Ong feels sweltering heat rush to his face, “No, no that’d be horrible.”
“It would be,” Daniel says, taking a step closer.
“Just awful,” Ong takes a step closer, too.
“Terrible,” Daniel says until he’s looming right in front of Ong, a nose’s distance away.
“Then I guess we better obey the laws of the mistletoe. Just to make sure,” Ong’s eyes fall onto Daniel’s lips.
“Guess we should…” Daniel says. They lean in, and their lips press together chastely for their second kiss.